You're a Tree in the Wind!

(aka: My life as a Belly Dancer, Part 2)

I'm officially halfway done with my belly dancing classes. (okay, okay. I skipped one class, but it's because my parents were in town!...well, at least that's my excuse)

So far, i've:

• been "a tree in the wind"
• acted "like I'm cradling a giant egg in my arms"
• stood "as though there's a string from the my head to the ceiling"
• pretended "my arms are snakes"
  
• and tried to "glide effortlessly across the floor"

The one thing I haven't done, is look like a belly dancer.

Instead, I look like a drunken ostrich....a drunken ostrich who has no rhythm.

But that's OK! It was never my goal to be a amazing. It was my intention to get out of my comfort zone, try something new, and potentially humiliate myself. I can put a big red checkmark next to all those things (not like the third one is that difficult...or rarely accomplished for that matter).

Admittedly, the novel I am constantly narrating in my head causes me to be the heroine in every situation, and by default perhaps I expect myself to exceed at everything.... but at least I am not the worst.

I know this for a fact, because my instructor came into my [place of work] the other day. I said hello and reminded her that she was my teacher. She semi -recognized me, but couldn't remember which of her classes I was in. That's got to mean I'm just somewhere in the middle right? If I were the worst, I'm sure she would be sitting around with her friends at night, regaling them with story of the horrible ginger-haired drunk ostrich in her class.